


Good Morning

by runicmagitek



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 14:07:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5051374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runicmagitek/pseuds/runicmagitek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's colder in Midgar than she expected, but Tifa's still determined to find a way to warm up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Morning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wallwalker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wallwalker/gifts).



> happy belated birthday! <3

The heater wasn’t working. _Again_.

Tifa sighed, the motion rippling through her freezing body, and walked away from the thermostat. The only idea she _hadn_ _’t_ tried was punching a hole in the damn thing.

All of this meant another call to the landlord and another concern pushed aside and not dealt with until next week, if that. It wasn’t even winter yet in Midgar and she loathed the cold. Nibelheim had been chilly, though it was balmy in light of the slums. A mixture of the plates blocking out both light and heat made living below miserable.

 _Why did I even bother coming here?_ she wondered to herself, rummaging through her closet in search for blankets. Over discovering a single extra blanket, she frowned and wrapped her arms around her trembling form. The hoodie and pajama bottoms were thin, providing little warmth or comfort in her tiny, frigid apartment.

She sat on the edge of her bed, the dim, neon lights of the streets filtering in and spilling into her lap. Sleep wasn’t an option now when her mattress was akin to an ice cube. At the same time, she wasn’t fond of heading into work the next day absolutely restless. Her boss was persistent with finding a reason to fire her; a single yawn might have been good enough. Tifa shivered and rested her face in her palms, blaming no one but herself for the mess she put herself in.

But an idea went off in her head - maybe one of the neighbors had an extra set of thick blankets she could borrow. _Oh, who am I kidding,_ Tifa thought, scrunching up her face. _If my heater is out, so is everyone_ _’s. No one’s going to want to loan out extra blankets._

For a full ten minutes, she thought over the plan - as thin as it was - fidgeting her hands over one another. Tifa made her decision, one which had her swallowing down her pride, grabbing her keys, and heading out the door.

The first five doors she knocked at yielded no response. Tifa didn’t expect them to. The sixth one resulted in an older lady yelling at her to stop waking people up in the middle of the night. She scolded Tifa for a lack of manners - clearly she had none - and slammed the door in her face. Tifa flinched and lost two inches in height. Twirling her keys around a finger, she thought about heading back to her room and sucking it up.

_No. One more. Then I_ _’ll call it quits._

So she knocked on the seventh door.

She didn’t expect, however, to have a young girl answer. The little one clung onto a decaying teddy bear missing an ear. With a yawn, the girl rubbed her sleepy eyes and blinked them at Tifa.

“Um... hello?” She squinted at Tifa.

 _Oh, aren_ _’t you the sweetest thing._ Now Tifa didn’t want to be stealing blankets from a little girl. “Hey there,” she said, perking up in an attempt to not reflect how forlorn she felt inside. “I, um... I’m Tifa.” And she waved. “I live right down the hall. Um... are your parents around, sweetie? I was hoping that-”

Tifa’s spine stiffened over the bulky footsteps marching over to the door, then over the _voice_. She could have heard that commotion from down in her own room, let alone at the door. It was difficult to discern whether or not the man was yelling or actually had no concept of what an inside voice was. Tifa painted in her mind a massive brute trudging over, akin to a monster guarding a treasure chest in a fairy tale, but what Tifa saw didn’t frighten her as much as she thought it would.

The poor guy looked as exhausted as Tifa was, clad in just a pair of pants. Typical guy, she figured. His body held a collection of scars, though none of them compared to his mangled arm. Tifa did well not to stare; besides, she despised the thought of people doing the same to her if they ever caught a glimpse of the wretched scar on _her_ body. She shuddered over the memory and met the man’s eyes.

He glowered at Tifa. “Yo. Whaddya want?”

For whatever reason, it was far easier speaking with the young girl. “Um... hi, I uh....”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Do ya just _like_ wakin’ people up at ass o’clock?”

She denied the fact heat flourished to her cheeks. “N-no! I just-” She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, averting her gaze to the floor. “My heater’s broken,” Tifa rushed out, “and I’m freezing and was hoping you had some extra blankets to spare so I can sleep.”

No response. Tifa silently admitted defeat, though his voice brought her eyes back to his.

“Shit, yours too?” He snorted. “Well, ain’t got no blankets to spare. Marlene’s kinda hoggin’ ‘em up.” He jerked a thumb into the apartment. “Got a space heater by the bed. That’s it. Ya better get your ass in here if ya wanna stay warm.”

Tifa blinked. _...did he just say-_

“ _Hello_?” He snapped his fingers at her. “Ya wanna stay warm or not, girl?

She stood upright again. “Yeah. Sure. Of course.”

He gestured for Tifa to come inside and she shuffled in like a timid bunny entering a wolf’s den. The inside was dark, though the layout was no different from her own place. Waiting for the man’s lead, she stood off to the side as he brought the girl - Marlene, respectively - to the living room to tuck her back into the couch. She _was_ hogging all the blankets, though the little girl smiled while clinging to her precious teddy bear. Tifa tucked dark hair behind her ear while she spied upon the two, smiling when the man ducked in to kiss her forehead.

“C’mon,” he said to Tifa, marching towards what had to be his bedroom.

“Right.” Trailing behind him, Tifa rolled her thoughts in her head before piping up again. “Uh... thank you, sir, for-”

“ _What_?”

She almost ran right into him when he came to a dead stop. The hallway might have been cloaked in shadows, but she noted the perplexed expression which screamed _what the everliving fuck did you just say?_

“Did ya just call me _sir_?”

Tifa hesitated. “Yeah?”

He snorted. “Ya ain’t from ‘round here, are ya, girl?”

Well, she could have retorted with how he kept insisting on calling her _girl_ , but Tifa was smart enough _not_ to piss off the man who offered to share his space heater with her.

She huffed out a sigh. “I just wanted to say thank you. That’s all.”

But Tifa didn’t expect him to stifle a laugh. “Yeah, if ya say so. Ya just owe me at some point now.” He shook his head while snickering. “ _Sir_... that’s one for the books.”

The bedroom was no different from Tifa’s, save for decorations. And there was a space heater blowing out warmth by the side of the bed. The man yawned, mentioned something about her making herself comfortable, then collapsed into bed.

Tifa stood there, pondering over the predicament she was now in. Where was she supposed to go? Surely not in bed with him. It wasn’t like he... well, propositioned her for _that_. But she couldn’t make sense of anything else and didn’t wish to be rude. Swallowing hard, Tifa approached the space heater and prepared to curl up on the floor. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was warm, even without a blanket. Better than where she was at half an hour ago.

“The fuck are ya doin’?”

Jolting over the voice, Tifa peered up to see the man glaring down at her from the edge of his bed. “Um... I-”

“Get your ass in bed, girl.”

 _Now_ she was blushing. “I-I don’t want to be rude-”

“Pfff, bein’ polite is gonna get ya a nasty crick in your neck. C’mon. Rather ya be rude and shit than sleepin’ on the floor.”

Not wishing to insult him further, Tifa scrambled to her feet. Surprisingly enough, he made room for her on the mattress, letting her favor the side by the space heater more than him. His thick hand patted the space and Tifa moved into it, her movements ginger as ever.

“Good,” he huffed out. “Can’t go to sleep with a lady tryin’ to get comfy on my damn floor. Shit. You’re somethin’ else....”

As she nestled into the pillow, she kept her back to him, though still uttered out, “Thank you... again.”

But he didn’t say anything. Collapsing onto his back, he must’ve passed out in seconds. She didn’t blame him. It was late and it was freezing. Yet Tifa couldn’t fall asleep in an instant; her mind was riddled with what she could ever do to thank him other than give him her word.

 _I don_ _’t even know his name._ She gently smacked herself in the face over that thought. _Good job, Tifa. Way to have your priorities in a row. Oh well... can ask him in the morning._

Though when she woke up come morning, she didn’t expect her pillow to be replaced by a rising and falling chest. Tifa didn’t realize it at first, stirring in place to stretch down to her toes. After a yawn, she parted her eyes and discerned her new location.

Gasping, she jerked backwards and almost vaulted herself off of the damn bed. Her entire face deepened from the blush burning through her skin. Thankfully, the man hadn’t flinched from her movement. From the looks of it, he hadn’t moved at all in the middle of the night. With the blankets kicked off on her end, Tifa imagined she rolled about to no end while unconscious.

All the way over to him.

 _It_ _’s harmless,_ she convinced herself and slipped out of bed. _I_ _’ll just head out now before I make it worse and.... Should I leave a note? Thank him again and tell him he can hit me up for a favor?_ She wrapped her arms around her body while recalling her way back to the front door. _That... shouldn_ _’t be bad. ‘Dear sir, thank you for letting me use your heater last night. I hope you slept well. No, I didn’t find your chest more comfortable than the pillow. Sincerely, your blushing neighbor seven doors down.’_

“Are you leaving, miss?”

Tifa almost forgot about Marlene. The girl sat in her blankets like a cocoon, beady eyes staring up at her.

“That was the plan,” she told the girl.

“You not going to stay for breakfast?”

“I don’t think your papa would want me to intrude any further.”

Marlene perked up. “Do you know how to cook?”

“Huh?”

“Papa wouldn’t mind if you cooked something! He’s always burning food around here.”

For whatever reason, Tifa imagined him trying to finesse pots and pans in the tiny kitchen, swearing up a storm. She giggled over the thought.

“Well,” Tifa drew out, “I guess I _can_ cook when I want to.” She approached Marlene and tilted her head. “Do you have any requests?”

The little girl was already kicking off her blankets and rushing for the kitchen. “Oh! Oh! Pancakes with jam! And eggies!” She peered over her shoulder. “Can you... can you make them look like moogles?”

“The pancakes?” Tifa smiled when Marlene nodded. “I can certainly try.”

In a short time, the entire apartment filed with the aroma of a warm cooked breakfast. It wasn’t anything fancy and not nearly as appetizing as the food she grew up with, but it was better than nothing. She even figured out how to work the coffee maker to fix herself a cup - and one for her heating savior, who she did _not_ snuggle with in her sleep - along with fetching Marlene a cup of watered down juice.

Tifa was halfway done with her plate when heavy steps came their way.

“The _hell_ is this?” he inquired.

Before she could explain herself, Marlene piped up. “Look, papa!” She showed him her half eaten pancake. “It’s a moogle! And look!” She pointed at his plate. “You have a chocobo!”

Well, an attempt at a chocobo, anyways. A touch lopsided and crispy around the edges, but it got the point across. Tifa munched at her food while he squinted at his plate, only to light up over the steaming beverage beside it.

“ _And_ coffee?”

“I mean, it _is_ all you have in the place,” Tifa said while waving her fork in his direction.

She prepared herself for a barrage of hatred, because how dare she storm in and not only steal his heat and bed, but also prepare food in the morning. To Tifa’s surprise, he let out a laugh.

“ _Damn_! I should be lettin’ random women crash in my bed more often if it means I get a meal like _this_!” He plopped down at his seat, already cutting up his pancake with a fork. “So take it ya slept well, girl?”

Tifa nodded, hoping she wasn’t blushing. “Yeah. I did. I-”

“Shit, the hell is wrong with me.” He dropped his fork on the plate and looked her in the eye. “Never asked for your name.”

No. He hadn’t. But now he was.

“It’s Tifa,” she eventually said, extending a hand out to him. “Tifa Lockhart.”

And he grabbed a hold of it with a might which rivaled his boisterous nature. “Barret Wallace.” He shook hard and grinned.

She mirrored his expression. “Thank you again, Barret.”

“Shit, don’t be thankin’ me! Thank _you_ for all this. Ya gonna cook each time ya come over here or somethin’? By all means, knock at midnight lookin’ for some heat.”

Tifa chuckled, bit her lower lip, and returned to her food. _I_ _’ll keep that in mind._


End file.
